The first time I stood in a Highland river, I understood why Tim had been talking about this place for years. Glacial water cut through ancient lava fields, waterfalls spilled into canyons around every bend, yet nothing Tim had told me had prepared me for it. The landscape was vast and unfamiliar, almost as if I had stepped onto another planet.
It began to make sense why Iceland was considered the land of fire and ice, but there was something even more special to me: those incredible waterfalls that seemed to be everywhere. As someone who loves hiking to waterfalls back home, I immediately wondered why I should just admire them from the trail when I could wade into one and catch a fish.
The waterfall fish would have to wait, but Heather’s first fish in the Highlands was this gorgeous Arctic char.
A Goal Left Unfinished
During my first trip to Iceland, I missed the waterfall fish I'd wanted the most. We started our day at Fagrifoss. The word literally translates to “beautiful waterfall.” An epic spot. Me versus the fish. And the fish won. Disappointment set in, but quickly disappeared because our next spot was at the Kaldakvísl River. Standing on the cliff above, we could see the white tips of Arctic char below.
Yet, at the river mouth, I couldn't catch a fish to save my life despite seeing char tucked behind nearly every boulder. I watched Tim catch fish after fish, even hooking one within inches of his wading boots. I started to wonder if Iceland simply wasn't for me. To make matters worse, later that day Tim said he wished the fishing were more technical?! Too easy, he said. Too easy?!
My first trip to the Highlands was a positive one. I landed my first Arctic char later that day, followed by plenty of other memories. Yet before the trip, Tim had asked me what I wanted to do most, and there was no hesitation: Catch a fish below a Highland waterfall. That eluded me this time.
Unfinished Business
A Highlands double! Three years after struggling to catch a char here, the river mouth finally felt very different.
Soon, Tim began planning another group trip to the Highlands in 2025 and, you guessed it, waterfalls were back on my mind. This time I arrived with more confidence, better casting, and a growing belief that the Highlands would reward patience and persistence…fingers crossed!
We returned to one of Iceland’s most beautiful spots to cast a fly, and as fishing would have it, Fagrifoss came and went again, still no waterfall fish. Next up, the elusive river mouth beat full of char. Would I redeem myself there?
Jerome, our guide, and Tim both reassured me it would be different this time. It was. I’d love to say I’d mastered some revolutionary new technique, but it was probably a combination of better casting, line management, and maybe even an orange beadhead fly that finally got the job done.
When multiple char slammed my fly over the course of the morning, I heard myself think: this is too easy, the exact words that had once baffled me coming out of Tim's mouth. Three years of doubt dissolved in that moment.
As Jerome high-fived me after yet another char was successfully landed, I let him know that there was one more thing we needed to do before stopping for lunch and pointed upstream.
Tim glanced over. He already knew and just shook his head. I was a woman on a mission! The waterfall was calling my name, and with my newfound confidence, I was going to get my waterfall fish.
The Waterfall Was Calling
Bright fuchsia flowers growing from the rocks along the river—one of the small details that makes Iceland’s Highlands feel so unforgettable.
Upstream, a small waterfall looked promising, especially because I could wade right up to it. Mist covered my face as water spilled over a lava shelf draped in moss, with bright fuchsia flowers growing from cracks in the rock along its edges. I had to wedge my boots into boulders to prevent myself from floating away.
As we walked up, Jerome warned that once a hooked char reached the glacial Kaldakvisl River, it would almost certainly break me off. Landing one would mean scrambling over slick rocks and getting below the fish before it escaped.
Jerome finished explaining the plan. We looked at each other and smiled. If we hooked one, we’d figure out the landing later. He joked that with his height, he could wade much further than me and if he had to, he would get a little wet if it meant success.
Near a large boulder within the waterfall’s pool, we spotted at least one char tucked out of the fast current. And then it was game on. Getting the drift right with so many swirling currents was a puzzle. But there are moments when you cast and just know, you’ve got a fishy drift. When I felt the tug, it wasn't even from the char I'd been targeting. Another fish, holding deeper in the water column, rose for my fly. I set the hook and the char immediately turned and swam downstream. Suddenly every warning Jerome had given me felt very real.
Hearing the roar of the waterfall behind me, I was quickly reminded that this wasn’t just any fish I was trying to land. Thankfully I didn't have to sprint through the strong current over treacherous rocks. It was more of a determined march, with a few stumbles thrown in. Jerome was a star. He anticipated every move before it happened, constantly positioning himself between the fish and the danger ahead. He navigated the slick rocks effortlessly and never hesitated to wade deeper, trying to turn the char before it reached the point of no return and glacial current beyond.
We both let out shouts when he swooped in with his net to land a gorgeous char, almost black with a brilliant orange belly.
Heather with the Arctic char that finally completed her waterfall mission in Iceland’s Highlands.
More Than a Fish
Standing beneath that waterfall, holding that char, I realized why I had been chasing this moment for three years. It was never just about catching a fish. It was about becoming part of the landscape, wading into the rushing water, navigating the uncertainty, and experiencing Iceland in a way that few people ever do. Landing my first waterfall fish didn’t just check a box; it cemented the obsession, the pull back to this place, and the certainty that I’ll be returning again.
Of course, I’ve already told Tim that when we do return, I’ve got dibs on Fagrifoss. Three years ago I couldn’t land a char in plain sight. Now I’m standing in a waterfall holding one. This time, Fagrifoss doesn't stand a chance.
By Heather Cammisa
Heather discovered fly fishing after marrying Tim, first joining him on the bank with a good book before eventually trying it herself. After catching brook trout in a Pennsylvania mountain stream, she was hooked.
For Heather, fly fishing is about more than catching fish. She loves the challenge, the beauty of the places it takes her, and the adventures she and Tim have shared from the rivers and waterfalls of Iceland to Montana and their home waters of Pennsylvania. Most of all, she values the mindfulness of being on the water, where fishing gives her a chance to quiet her mind and stay present.
These days, Heather enjoys fishing with Tim and their children, Angelo and Fina. For her, it’s about so much more than the fish. It’s about the places they’ve explored, the memories they’ve made, and spending time with the people she loves.
READY TO CHASE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE?
CHASE YOUR OWN WATERFALL
Want to experience the Icelandic Highlands for yourself? Join Tim for a week of wild brown trout, Arctic char, waterfalls, and some of the most incredible fishing scenery in Iceland.